


Thin Iron Walls

by Quitebrilliantindeed



Category: Xenosaga
Genre: Brothers, Gen, References to Suicide, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-24
Updated: 2013-06-24
Packaged: 2017-12-16 01:59:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/856483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quitebrilliantindeed/pseuds/Quitebrilliantindeed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The fate of an Executioner will never be envied. Pre-Episode I. Spoilers for entire series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thin Iron Walls

**Author's Note:**

> I had a lot of trouble deciding whether or not it would be okay to write this fic, due to the nature of the topic of suicide, and fear of it being thrown around frivolously for the sake of fanfic-angst. I honestly wrote this because I honestly think this is an issue that Gaignun's character spent most of his life battling with-- and I think it affected him enough to be explored in a more in-depth way. It's not a simple excuse to have some brotherly-hurt-comfort time, so I made sure not to tackle it as such. Instead, I tried to approach it as a serious issue of which brotherly talks, among other things, would be a consequence of. In short, I really tried my best and I sincerely hope that no one is offended.

            Jr. had never really seen Mary or Shelley as shaken as he had on that night. Whether it was just part of their nature, or a side effect from hanging around Gaignun too much, they had both developed a sort of permanent easygoing attitude. Even Mary, who was considerably more outgoing and bubbly than her sister, had never really let that much get to her.

            But not on that night. They had crept into his room sometime past 2:00 AM, pressed close and clutching one another’s hands in the all-encompassing dark. He had been in bed, still awake, his nose pressed into a book beneath covers, with a small pocket light clutched in his hand to illuminate the words below.

            “Little Master,” Jr. couldn’t see her, but he could tell that Mary’s drawling voice was free of tears, if cracking and whispered out like a thin winter breeze. “Little Master, are you awake?” She paused, and tried again, a little more desperately: “Come on, you’re always awake ‘round now…”

            “Guys?” Jr. shed the comforter he had nested up within in a single fluid motion, all while half-jumping out of bed. “What’s wrong?”

            This is where Mary stopped altogether—the words froze on her lips, straining on an invisible leash that struggled to keep them within her throat. “—it’s Master Gaignun.” She choked out at last, only after Shelley’s comforting hand had come to rest on her arm. “I don’t know, Little Master, he, he wasn’t himself…”

            “What?” Jr. bolted upright at the mention of his younger brother, swinging his feet over the edge of the bed. “What do you mean by that? Mary? Shelley?”

            “…” It was Shelley who finally answered him: “I’m fairly certain he is fine now,” Jr’s entire body slackened with relief, “But he gave us a scare, and… we think it’s best you talk to him. Soon.” Her narrow eyes met Jr’s, obliterating any complaint he might have had by way of their somber tone.

            “What happened?” He asked breathlessly, lowering his head. He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to hear it—Gaignun had always been the calm one, the stable figure in the world of insanity where he was raised. If something had caused him to visibly snap, it was not a subject to be taken lightly.

            “…I don’t think he was drunk,” Mary began, “Just, uh, buzzed enough to be more honest than he’d like...” She rattled out a sigh. “Little Master, has he ever…” Jr. nodded for her to continue. “Has he ever considered taking his own life?”

            An ocean-worth of thoughts cascaded into Jr’s head—memories from their time as children, from after the Miltian Conflict, from after the start of the Kukai Foundation—anything that could explain the information just relayed to him.

            “I’m gonna go now,” He mumbled hurriedly, slipping out of bed and past the Godwin sisters. “I’ll be back soon—take care of yourselves…” Jr. hoped they heard the end of his sentence, as he was already out the door by the time he had said it.

            Gaignun slept in the room down the hall—and while he often got back late, it was probably well within the time wherein he would be there. Jr. made no move to slow down or stay quiet and unnoticed—the bareness of his feet was perhaps the only thing keeping his heavy footfalls from disturbing any of the workers or guests that might be sleeping in their halls that night. It didn’t take long to reach his destination—Jr. opened the door with a hefty shove, throwing his whole weight into the heavy old-fashioned entranceway.

            “…Hey.”

            Gaignun was there alright—unharmed and unassuming. Well, mostly unassuming—his hair looked disheveled and his blazer was lazily strewn across a chair, but aside from that—and the redness around his eyes—he looked fine enough.

            “What the hell are you thinking?” Jr. snapped, marching to his brother as the sympathy drained from him, and the loathing shot in. “Do you know what Mary and Shelley just told me about you? If you’re that upset over something, you can’t just—”

             _“Jr!”_

Gaignun’s voice reverberated in his skull, cutting off his words and sending him slouching into a chair. Jr. stared at his brother, desperately wanting to look away from the sharpness that radiated from his eyes, but finding himself too guilty to even try.

            “I’m sorry.”

            “I know.” Gaignun’s voice was soft and laced with a tiredness Jr. could not quite comprehend. “ _I’m_ sorry.” He said, as if to correct the statement.

            “Don’t apologize. We’re just…” Jr. sighed. “What did you do? Can you at least tell me that much?”

            A haze of embarrassment swelled up and over his brother, knitting his brow and tensing his body. Jr. flinched—he was pushing for too much, and he knew it, but what else was he supposed to do? Sit by and watch while his little brother pursued some secret deathwish?

            “I said some things,” Gaignun explained, shifting in his chair. “That I regret now that my mind has cleared.” Jr’s hard gaze pierced him, and he continued, if reluctantly. “I… I admitted things to them. Not the specifics… nothing of the ‘The Executioner,’ but the idea that we might have roles thrust upon us that we don’t necessarily want. Roles we cannot escape under any circumstances.”  
            “That’s not enough to scare them that badly.” Jr. protested. Gaignun was holding back, and there was no way in hell that he didn’t know Jr. could tell.

            “I lost my cool.”

            “…How badly?”

            “…Don’t press for such details.” Ah. He had cried. “I mentioned that I… that I could end everything now. That’s what frightened them.” He paused, and began to rise from his chair. “What am I doing? I should be comforting them… they would never deserve—“

            “They’re fine,” Jr. rose, crossing over to gently push Gaignun back to his seat. He had been talking so quickly that even Jr. had struggled to keep up. “Take care of  _yourself_  right now.” If Gaignun’s face was any indication, it was the  _last_  thing he wanted to do right now. Jr. suppressed a faint smile. What an idiot—too nice for his own good.

            “No,” That smile faded away. “I don’t want your sympathies right now… I need to be alone. I need to rest. Please, Rubedo. Please.” Hearing that name twisted Jr’s heart a little. He didn’t want to hear that name ever again, especially not from the mouth of someone so close. Even worse, that twist had ignited a little spark in him, one that threatened to burst and begged him to fight back, to argue until Nigredo saw his point and _just let him fucking help_ ….

            “…Fine.” He grumbled. “I’ll leave you be.” Jr. left the room in a bit of a huff, not caring if he meant to or not. He kept his movements sharp, and his eyes stubbornly cast away from his brother in a sort of begrudging punishment for casting him away.

            “Wait.”

            Jr. halted. “What?”

            “Please make sure Mary and Shelley are okay, I honestly didn’t mean to…”

            “Yeah. Don’t worry about that, okay? Just… just get some rest.” 

            Jr. was fairly certain Gaignun nodded in affirmation, but he was already out the door and didn’t bother to look back and check. Slowly, feet practically dragging along the cold surface, he hobbled back to his room. The sisters were sitting quietly at the small table within, a kettle of hot tea boiling between them.

            “Little Master,” Shelley acknowledged, holding up a mug. “Here.”

            “Thanks.” With a yawn, Jr. strode over to the sisters, and dropped down, exhausted, into an empty chair between them. “That was useless,” He announced, breathing in the comforting warmth of the drink. “He’ll be fine, but…” He gritted his teeth, “That moron doesn’t let a single goddamn person help out.”

            “Master Gaignun is like that, isn’t he?” Mary sighed, swirling the cloud of steam that rose from her mug with an outstretched finger. “He’s private—sometimes too much for his own good.”

            “Yes, but…” Shelley frowned, looking slightly uncomfortable in her seat. “Perhaps it’s not our place to say. This is a highly personal matter. As long as he’s safe, he should be left alone… a coping process is something that I don’t believe we have a right to interfere with.”

            “I know, I know, I know…” Jr. reached out for the kettle as he mumbled the reluctant admission. “But how safe is he? Is this just a one-time thing, or is he looking longingly at a gun every goddamn night?!”

            The Godwin sisters were silent. Jr. bit his tongue, nearly dropping the kettle in remorseful frustration. “Sorry.” He muttered. He willed for this all to be gone and done with already—the more concerned he became, the more frustrated he got, and consequently, the faster his temper rose....

            “It’s fine.” Mary assured him, although Jr. bitterly wondered how genuine that really was. “We understand your worrying—we’re in the same boat as you are,” She eased the kettle from Jr’s hands, prying his fingers away and pouring more of the hot liquid into his mug for him. “…We wouldn’t have bothered you if we weren’t just as disturbed as you are now.”

            “…Can I at least ask…?” Jr. swallowed lump of guilt that formed in his throat. Gaignun would hate him so much for this. “You know, what happened…”

            Mary and Shelley exchanged a strange sort of look that Jr. couldn’t quite decipher. They were doubtlessly discussing via their own private link whether it would be okay to tell him or not, but he couldn’t make heads or tails of what their personal feelings on the topic were.

            Shelley closed her eyes and lowered her head in a semblance of a nod. “I think it’s for the best, in this case.” Mary’s eyes seemed to agree.

            “We returned from the Executive Meeting on Second Miltia,” Mary began, but a shadow passed over her face not a second into her story. A bitter laugh crackled from her throat—“It was my fault, I suppose. We got ourselves some nice wine to split—a celebration I guess. He only wanted to have a glass, but I…” Shelley had risen from her chair and crossed behind Jr. to kneel at her sister’s side, tenderly taking her free hand into her own while the other pushed away tears. “Gosh, I’m an idiot. I shouldn’t have made him do that…”

            “Shhh.” Jr. leaned in, trying to ball his own tension up inside and be a force of comfort “It’s fine, hey, don’t—“ He sighed. “It was a mistake, yeah, but that happens… besides, it’s not like you  _made_  him…” he faltered “…made him that way. Besides, he specifically told me to make sure you guys were okay—he’s not cross with you at all, I promise.” Mary ran a hand through her blonde curls, and quivered an affirming nod before attempting to continue.

            “Anyway… well…” She cleared her throat, and looked to her sister, clearly searching for further support. She began again once that gift had been gently given to her in full. “We were all a little woozy at that point—laughin’ and teasin’… We were having fun, I think, until we noticed that Master Gaignun… well, wasn’t. He just sorta stared off into the distance, I suppose, nodding every now and then when we asked him somethin’. There was a television on—I think that’s what triggered him. I don’t remember what it even was… is that normal? Something about a death penalty on some planet, oh I don’t know…” Jr. flinched. Death penalty? No, execution would be the better word here. If Mary’s memory served her correctly, it was no wonder Gaignun had been set off…

            “He started to cry,” Shelley whispered, a bewildered tone present in her low voice. Gaignun had always been secretive—even as a child—so her confusion was more than justifiable. “We asked him what was wrong, but he simply asked to excuse himself… Then he began to shake. I couldn’t even make out the majority of what he said, but what I heard…” She gripped Mary’s hand tighter. “It was concerning. I did not know that he… that he had such urges.”

            “…He’s just always been so cool and calm, y’know?” Mary continued, although Jr. certainly didn’t need anyone to tell him that. It had always been a bit ironic—that the “baby” of the lot of them was also the most mature. He had always kept an eye on him, him and… Albedo. A dark thought wormed its way into his head. He was the calmest of them, yes, but when he snapped, he  _snapped_.

            By now, Jr’s head had sunken into his open palms. Part of him was just brimming with nothing but raw concern for Gaignun, for his health and well1being, for his happiness. The other half was simply screaming at himself for not noticing or caring earlier. How long had he been suicidal anyway? Since he learned of the supposed ‘role’ thrust upon him all those years ago? But that would mean since his youth… which meant he had been in the dark about it for over ten years. Had he been so possessed by Albedo that he ignored the sufferings of his other brother  _entirely?_  Or was this behavior just a recent development now that Gaignun was old enough to fully comprehend the weight of it all?

            Did any of this even matter?

            “Little Master…”

            “…Maybe we should all just try to rest, yeah?” Jr. stood up rather forcefully, not bothering to push the chair back under the table. “This isn’t the time to be mulling over matters like this. We’re all tired, and we’re gonna say things that we’ll regret.” A resigned sense of agreement crept across their faces, and they joined him in standing, their movements casually synchronized, as if it were a normal thing for sisters to be so startlingly in tune with one another.

            “We’ll head out,” Mary agreed.

            “Do you need any…” Jr. trailed off as the sisters shook their heads.

            “We’ll be all right,” Shelley assured him. “Take care of yourself, Little Master.”

            “You guys too.”

            He waited until they had fully left his room before shuffling over to his bed and crawling wretchedly back under the covers. He threw the book out from underneath the pillow, not even bothering to skim a few pages before trying to drift off. Sleep was the only thing appealing to him right now, and yet probably the last thing he would get.

Jr. lay there and lay there, acutely aware of the sleepless minutes passing him by. He tried to convince himself to stop staring at the clock every time he sat up, but again and again, he found his eyes drawn to the glowing numbers that glared so menacingly back at him.

Fuck. He wasn’t getting anywhere like this—his mind was too far swallowed in the vast currents of memories and information, trying to figure out what he could possibly say to Gaignun, what wouldn’t be insensitive, what would possibly help him, or what would make it worse… He wished they could see counselors without spilling the truth of their identities all over the floor. They could both benefit  _immensely_  from one of those…

            The resounding thud of his door swinging open sent Jr. reeling back from the whirlpool of his mind and nearly a foot into the air. With swift and practiced grace, he rolled over to face the man who had entered.

            “Relax. It’s only me.” Gaignun’s low voice came out as a sighed whisper. God, it was so deep. When did that happen?

            “I know.” Jr. retorted, although there was a certain gentleness behind his hard words.

            “You’ve been monitoring me?” It was phrased as a question, but every nuance of Gaignun’s voice pointed to it in fact being a steady observation.

            “…Do you really blame me?”

            “No… I suppose not.” Oh. Gaignun had now come to the side of his bed, and was gesturing at it with one smooth hand. “May I?”

            “Yeah.” Jr. scooted back from the edge to give his brother room, sitting up as he did.

            Neither of them spoke for a while. Gaignun sat, perched on the bed’s edge, his arms crossed, and his gaze distant, while Jr. absently fixated on his drawn-up knees, burrowing proverbial holes into them with the fire of his stare.

            “Well,” Gaignun began. “This is rather awkward,” Jr. snorted softly, making his brother turn and actually look at him. “You know why I’m here.”

            “Sort of, I guess.”

            “I wanted to apologize for, uh…” His arms had unlaced themselves, if only to free his hands so they might pick nervously at the sheets. “…All of this. I didn’t mean to frighten any of you, nor snap, I just…”

            “Quiet down,” Jr. said, gently punching him in the shoulder. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

            “I made you all worry.”

            “Did you intend for that?” He shook his head. “Exactly. I think… I think this is out of your control. It’s out of anyone’s control.”

            “Jr—“  His brow furrowed in thought. “It was no lie. It’s a buried truth that alcohol happened to uncover, but—” Jr. swallowed the flurry of words that rose in his throat. No, he couldn’t explode now. He had to just let his brother talk it out. “—but that doesn’t mean you need to be constantly concerned. I can suppress these urges—I  _have_ suppressed these urges.”

            “For how long?”

            “Excuse me?”

            “For how long have you felt like…?”

            Gaignun’s eyes drifted shut like a man about to sleep. “Since  _then_.”

            With a long, weighted breath, Jr, drew a hand across his face. He really had never noticed—Nigredo had been suffering for this long, and he had never even—

            “Stop it, Rubedo,” That name again. He was using that name again. “I know what you’re thinking, and it isn’t like that. I’ve kept it well-hidden, you would have never been able to figure it out, especially given the age we were at back then. Hell, I still don’t even notice it myself half the time…” He trailed off briefly, thinking about something that Jr. couldn’t quite measure or understand. “It’s like a birthmark—you’re born with it in some strange little place, behind your knee, or on your neck, and you don’t really give it a second thought. And then you see it in a mirror one day, and suddenly that’s all you see and you think ‘how unsightly.’ Maybe that’s all you see for a day, maybe a week, maybe a month, but eventually, you will forget about it, and you see yourself as a whole again until the next day that the silly little birthmark catches your eye.”

            Gaignun’s voice had been laced with half a million emotions as he spoke—it was casual and nonchalant, bitter and agonized, yet still quiet and accepting. In turn, it filled Jr. with just as many feelings as it had contained, comforting him and troubling him all the same.

            “Are you telling me not to worry…?” Jr. eventually asked with a twinge of exasperation, unsure if there was really anything else he  _could_  say.

            “No, not exactly,” He gave a little chuckle, as if that was the most Jr-like-response he ever heard, and then grew solemn once more. “Sometimes I want to kill myself—of course you’ll worry. It might be more appropriate to tell you not to worry _right now_. An urge and an action are not quite the same thing—and this world is too precious for me to give it up now.” He paused. “Is that selfish? Ahah, perhaps… but the point still stands. If there comes a time when you need to worry, you’ll know it.”

            “…Is that supposed to comfort me?”

            “Yes, I suppose.”

            With a sigh, Jr. rolled forward onto his knees, plopping down next to his brother at the bed’s edge to lean his head against Gaignun’s shoulder. He soon felt a large hand come up to ever-so-slightly and affectionately ruffle his bed-tousled hair. “Fine.” Jr. conceded. “I’ll trust you. And I’m only doing that because it’s  _you_ , you freaking goody two-shoes.”

 Gaignun laughed. “Thank you... I promise you, everything will be fine.” Jr. couldn’t be certain in the dark, but it looked as if his brother was staring at the three digits inscribed on his right hand, as if he could erase them by the mere power of sight. Jr. gave his shoulder a little nudge with his head, snapping him out of the dreamy state and back to reality at his side.

“Hey. I should say I’m sorry for all that prying we did,” Jr. scratched at his neck, embarrassed to be admitting it. “It was pretty rude, wasn’t it…? These are your private matters—we shouldn’t be forcing you to speak about them or be getting in the habit of talking behind your back.”

“Well, yes, it was,” Jr. couldn’t help but feel a little offended by Gaignun’s straightforwardness, but knew he was more than right with his words. “I can’t blame you, however—I would have done the same.”

Jr. leaned in a little closer, burying his head deep into the crook of his brother’s neck. “…Just don’t do anything stupid,” It felt odd—like he was actually being the older brother for once. Under any other circumstances, Gaignun would have been proud. “You can come to me, you know? In fact, I want you to come to me. It’s part of my job to worry about you.”

“You know I can’t make any promises about that.”

“Yeah. But it’s my ‘brother’s prerogative’ to ask anyway.”

\---

               “You’re heading out?” Gaignun’s voice came clearly from over the intercom—not quite as clear as it would have sounded, had his brother been right beside him, but clear enough to still feel close by.

            “Yeah. We’re gonna bust into that Rennes-le-Chateau—and get the Elsa back.” A surge of enthusiasm had washed over Jr. as he spoke—a rescue actually seemed possible now that KOS-MOS was with them, and the hope she brought was nothing if not infectious.

            A faint smile flickered over Gaignun’s face. He looked tired—oh so tired—but at least that could cheer him up. Hell, he had been looking that awfully tired for a while now… his position at the Foundation had given him near-permanent dark circles beneath his eyes, but they just looked darker and darker these days—purple bruises against pale skin that seemed to have almost been drained of all life and color. Yet Gaignun refused to make any mention of it no matter how hard Jr. pressed him to speak. His relentless efforts could never quite pry off the iron-clad door his brother had placed in front of his secrets, but it wasn’t as if that was out of the ordinary for him…

            “Hey Gaignun?”  
            “Yes?”

            “Before I go… can I ask you one more time? Are you sure you’re all right? You really don’t look so hot—at this point even your most distant subordinates are concerned. You should take a vacation or something, or at least a little breather.”

            A throaty laugh came over the speaker as Gaignun’s image looked down from the camera in an awkward display of shame. “I’m fine. It’s been trying for all of us lately, that’s all.” He raised an unsteady hand to his temple, but quickly—self-consciously— lowered it.

            Jr. raised his eyebrows. “For you more than anyone then? Because no one looks  _half_  as tired as you, not even Shion…” No. He wasn’t going to think of that now. He couldn’t bear to think of two people so close to him in pain, and certainly not at the same time. The only thing was… Gaignun wasn’t ill—he would’ve felt it via their link had his brother been fighting off some strange virus, but nothing was palpable. He only felt… tired. As if he was constantly over-exerting himself, day and night, even while he slept—and that was slowly wearing his mind and body away.

            “Jr?”

            “Yeah, sorry!” Jr. shook the distraction from his head. “A little lost in thought.”

            His brother smiled. “Aren’t we all…?”

            “Huh. Yeah, I guess so…”

            The conversation fell into a lull at that point, their eyes making steady contact, or at least, as steady as it could be. No matter how realistic video-cameras were, it always felt as if a thin wall were still separating the two speakers, keeping one another just far enough out of reach. Still, it was all they had, and their invisible link filled in any gaps that the standard communication system may have left. Most people didn’t even get that luxury.

            “I guess I should go.” Jr. said, breaking the silence.

            “Probably,” Gaignun said with an encouraging nod. “Be careful.”

            “…You too,” Jr. replied, moving to cut the connection before he kept it on forever—but something stopped him. He raised his head once more, slowly drawing his hand back to his side: “Honestly, Nigredo. Please be careful, and—“  He stopped. Perhaps this was going too far, perhaps he was dragging up an issue better left quiet… “Promise me you won’t do anything stupid, yeah?”

            Gaignun’s weary eyes widened a fraction as Jr. spoke. It was incongruous enough—a simple phrase they had used since that one night, all those years ago, a phrase to express concern for one single issue, and one issue alone that plagued the heart of the younger of the two ‘siblings.’

            As Gaignun’s lips trembled, ready to speak, Jr. found his eyelids sliding shut, and his mind beginning to hammer the phrase  _‘I promise’_  over and over and over again, until it came true and he actually heard it from the mouth of his brother.

            “…I’ll try.”

            The connection closed with a small whistle and beep, leaving Jr. alone in the silence of his room. The answer he wanted never came, but he found no heart to complain any further than a hushed, soft, private sigh.

And in the end, the response he got was only fair—      

As mere hours later, Gaignun does something stupid.


End file.
